


Modifications on Angular Collision

by nemo_baker



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Alternate Canon, Angst, Disability, Episode: s01e01 Everything Changes, Episode: s02e11 Adrift, Episode: s02e12 Fragments, Flat Holm, M/M, Pre-Series, Slow Build, Work In Progress, alternate first meeting, hurt!Ianto
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-03
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-07 11:41:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4262037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nemo_baker/pseuds/nemo_baker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack finds a man that the Rift gave back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is currently incomplete! It's a starter for what I hope will become an ongoing project.

  
**Later**  
She picked up on the second ring.

“Hey, Helen.”

_“Captain? It’s two in the morning.”_

“I know, I’m sorry. But I need you to send the shoreside medical team to Bute Park.”

_“Another one, then?”_

“Yeah. He may have a spinal injury, so I don’t want to risk moving him on my own.”

_“Give them ten minutes.”_

“Thank you.”  
––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

**Earlier**  
The Rift Alarm blared through the Hub, and Jack jolted back to awareness. His mind had drifted while reading an email from Yvonne, telling him where he could stick his enquiries about her latest ‘project.’ Blinking away the last of his grogginess, he jumped up from his desk and made his way down to the central Hub. When he reached the main floor, he did a double take.

“Tosh?”

“We’ve got a very small disturbance, out in Bute Park–”

“Why are you still here? It’s late.” He checked his watch. “Or, early, I guess.”

Her cheeks flushed slightly, and she didn’t look up from her monitor. “Lost track of time.”

“You ignored me when I told you to go home earlier, didn’t you?”

“Maybe…” Her fingers flew across her keyboard, zooming in on an image of the new readings. “The Rift is already settling again, so whatever came through is definitely small. Or at least inconsequential.”

“Probably just flotsam and jetsam, then.”

“That’s what I was thinking. I’ll get a containment box from the archives and we can head out there.”

Jack raised his brow. “We? Oh, no. _You_ are going to go home. I’ll go get the thing.”

“But we’re never supposed to do retrievals alone,” she protested.

“That’s one of my rules for all of you,” Jack said. “Since I am both the boss and an asshole, I’m allowed to decide which of my rules don’t apply to me.”

She gave him a stern look. “Jack–”

“Look, even if you were to come with me, you are quite literally swaying on your feet.” She stiffened, which told him that she hadn’t realized that fact. “You won’t be much help to me if you pass out from exhaustion.”

“I guess you’re right,” she sighed.

“It does happen, on occasion,” he said. “Now please go get some sleep. You need a ride home?”

She shook her head, plucking her jacket from the back of her chair. “I’ll be fine. I have my car.”

“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Goodnight, Jack. Try to keep warm out there.”

“I will.”

“And call me if–”

“I promise if this turns out to be apocalyptic in nature, you’ll be the first one I call.”

She gave him a small smile, then departed through the cog door. Jack turned back to her computer. She’d left the enlarged image on screen and Jack’s eyes narrowed as he realized he was looking at a familiar pattern. He typed in a few commands and an identical spike, this one recorded nearly six months ago, appeared.

He sighed. Another Rift victim, then.

Another Rift victim who’d been dropped into prime Weevil territory in the middle of a frigid, February night.  
–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

**Elsewhere**  
Everything hurt.

His fingernails bled from the effort of dragging his body out of the shallow pond he’d found himself in, and he felt as though there was a layer of sand beneath his skin. His entire body shook from cold as the bitter wind whipped around him. When he attempted to move them, he discovered he couldn’t feel his legs. His thoughts felt scattered and distant, and they flew through his mind before he could process them or make decisions about their implications. Too much was happening at once, even though not much seemed to be happening at all.

_Where am I?_

Opening his eyes wide, he stared out into the oppressing darkness. There were no signs of life other than the grass beneath him and the trees looming before him. The squelching of the mud under his hands and the howling wind were the only sounds. He craned his neck and saw the gaping mouth of the universe, ready to swallow him whole, reflected in the starry sky. The sensation of openness was overwhelming. Although the place seemed to be deserted, the idea of staying out in the exposed area made him twitch.

With the sensation of vulnerability choking him, he began to claw his way forward again to seek the safety of the trees. Every muscle screamed at him to stop, but his panic was stronger than all of them. His breath was coming in ragged gasps by the time he reached the copse, and he barely managed to pass the treeline before collapsing. Nausea gripped him and he gagged.

He was not safe. He had to move.

But he couldn’t anymore. Everything around him was slowing to a stop, and his eyes were drifting closed. The strain and cold had settled deep into his bones, drowning him. He noted absently that he might be succumbing to hypothermia.

Seemed a bit anticlimactic to survive being thrown about time and space like a rag doll, only to die from some inclement weather.

Just before the last of his awareness fell away, he heard a voice calling out.  
–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

The portable scanner beeped at Jack insistently as he came upon a small pond, indicating that the Rift opening had come out in this area. He pulled out his torch.

“Is anyone there?” He raised his voice a bit over the wind.

There was no answer.

“In case you’re not sure,” Jack continued, leaving the paved path he’d been following. “You’re in Cardiff, Wales. 21st Century.”

Nothing.

“Earth.”

Still no.

“The Solar System.”

Not a sound. Jack sighed.

“Not much of a talker, then?” He approached the edge of the water.

His torch lit on handprints carved into the muddy embankment, as well as streaks of mud in the grass. Jack leaned down to inspect the marks more closely, and deduced the person had hauled themselves out of the pond and made for the surrounding foliage. He followed the trail of mud, swiftly but cautiously, in the same direction.

There was a man lying unconscious at the base of one of the trees.

Jack swore and got to his knees.

“Hey, can you hear me?” He went to the man’s neck to find his pulse _(weak, sluggish)_ , and noted by the rise and fall of his torso that he was still breathing. Jack swore again at the sight of blood-red fingers, and ice-blue lips. He was shivering violently.

“Wake up!” He tapped lightly on the other’s face, and saw an eyelid twitch. “Come on, now.”

Eventually the eyes opened. Instead of a look of haziness and confusion, Jack was subject to a look sharp enough to cut glass.

“Don’t panic,” Jack said, softly. “I’m just trying to help. Do you understand?”

The man didn’t seem to have enough energy to protest either way. He continued to stare as Jack shrugged off his greatcoat and draped it over him, and followed every movement Jack made as he checked for injuries.

“Can you walk?”

The other shook his head.

“Can you feel your legs?”

Another no.

“Right, okay. I’m just going to call someone, and we’re going to get you out of here.” Jack was already dialing Helen before he finished speaking. When he looked up again the piercing eyes eyes were drifting closed.

“No, hey. You gotta stay with me. Just for a bit.”

A small nod.

“Help will be here soon. You’re gonna be just fine.”

Jack suspected that this was a lie.

From the look on the other man’s tired face, so did he.  
–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

**Later**  
Doctor Bardal walked out of the medical suite, and gave Jack a reassuring nod.

“He’s stable. Had a bit of internal bleeding from an impact to the chest, and he was well on his way to becoming hypothermic, but you found him in time.”

“And his legs?”

“Paraplegia as a result of a severe spinal injury. The look of the bruising on the chest area and the lower back make me suspect that the bleeding and the paralysis might be the result of the same incident. The pattern and colouring are similar.”

“So he won’t walk again.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Did he wake up at all?”

“No. And he’s still pretty heavily under right now. We have no idea of his mental state, and we don’t want him to panic and exacerbate any existing injuries. He’ll be on at least partial sedation for a few days.”

“Alright. Keep me updated.”

“Always do. Get us a name so we have something to call him when he wakes up.”

“Sure. Thank you.”

She smiled. “Of course. I’ll pass on that thanks to Helen, too.”

“Yes, please.”  
–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

It was after seven when he finally returned from Flat Holm. The Hub was exactly as he’d left it, empty and silent except for the click of his footsteps on the metal grates and the concrete floor. He once again headed for Tosh’s station, this time pulling up the Cardiff Police’s missing persons database. To start, he set the search parameters to limit disappearances to within the last decade.

Now all he had to do was search every missing six foot tall, brown haired, white male in their twenties throughout all of Cardiff.

_Piece of cake._  
–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

**Three Days Later**  
“Hi, Helen.”

_“Hello, Captain. I just wanted to let you know that our new patient is awake. He’s still on fluids, but Dr. Bardal says he’ll be up for solid food later today.”_

“Oh, good. Have you talked to him?”

_“Yes, but he hasn’t talked to us. And as far as we can tell, it’s not because of any damage to his throat or vocal chords.”_

“Alright.”

_“Have you managed to identify him, yet?”_

“After enough pieces of cake to make me hyperglycemic.”

_“Wonderful. Who is he?”_

“His name is Ianto Jones.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> second installment of my work in progress.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been awake.

Time kept stopping, restarting, skipping through his mind so that hours would pass in moments, and minutes would take days. Helen had visited every five seconds at one point, but that was around three years ago. She had told him he was on an island near Cardiff, Wales, and he didn’t know where that was but it seemed important somehow. He wanted to ask her more about it, and had already written out his questions on the pad of paper on his bedside table.

He’d tried to speak when she had first appeared, but had been horrified when the words didn’t behave like he wanted them to, stuck to the tip of his tongue and restarted or faded away altogether. And so he had elected silence.

The peeling, bluish paint on the wall had become no more interesting since he had begun staring at it, and yet he couldn’t seem to stop. His focus narrowed and his vision blurred around the edges, but he didn’t even want to blink. It had been so long since his body had been still, and he wanted to feel nothing besides the beating of his heart.

But eventually the stillness was broken. The door swung inward and he had to suppress the urge to flinch. Everything seemed to be happening in a way he couldn’t prepare for, in a way that surprised him even though the sequence of actions was logical enough.

He looked at Helen, and gave her a nod in greeting.

“Hello, there,” she said, kindly. “How are you this morning? Did you sleep well?”

It was easier to answer the second question non-verbally, so he ignored the first and nodded again.

“Good,” she picked up his writing pad and pen, and gave it to him. The feel of paper against his skin was a little less foreign than yesterday, but he still rubbed his thumb over it in absent fascination. “Now, I’ve been informed that your name is Ianto, is that right?”

Ianto. Yes, he thought that seemed right. He gave a third nod.

“Alright then, Ianto. I brought you a bit of breakfast. Just some toast, since we don’t want to upset your stomach. You eat as much as you can, and then we’re going to chat a bit.”

_Who told you my name?_ he wrote, as legibly as he could manage. His fingers were quite shaky on the pen, and he seemed to have lost some of the muscle memory required to form the letters he still knew perfectly in his mind.

“The man who found you. His name is Jack.”

_Where is he?_

“Had to go to work. He doesn’t visit here that often. I told him you had woken up and he was glad to hear you were doing okay.”

He began scribbling again, but Helen raised her hand. “You can ask all the questions you want after you eat.”

He refrained from telling her that he didn’t want to eat, and instead picked up the toast she had set in front of him… When had she done that?

Another moment lost in the shuffle, he supposed.

She turned and left him to his meal. He picked small pieces from the corners of the bread, chewing them gently, and considered the new information he’d been given. He had a _name_ , which hadn’t seemed all that important to him when he’d first woken up here (groggy, in less pain than he remembered, lost), but it seemed that everyone he had met had one. So he’d begun to wonder where his had gone.

And now his savior had a name, too. _Jack._ Simple and sharp and bold. It didn’t move as much as his own name, didn’t dance across sounds to come into being, but he liked it that way. He mouthed it, but didn’t try to say it out loud. His misbehaving vocals wouldn’t do it justice, he was sure.

He didn’t realize his hands, and his plate, were empty until Helen re-entered the room. He placed said hands on the bedcovers and she took the tray from his lap. Then, she pulled up a chair from the corner of the room (it scraped a bit on the floor, his ears rung for a while afterwards), and met his eyes.

“Okay. So, would you like to ask your questions first?”

He shook his head, then wrote: _What did you want to say?_

“I wanted to tell you a bit about your condition,” she said, cautiously, as if attempting to assess his thoughts on the idea before he had a chance to express them.

_Okay._

“When you first came in, you were bleeding internally. You’re a lot better now, but you’re still healing up a bit.”

Nod.

“There was a lot of bruising. And that will stay for a bit. You’ll be quite sore for a while because of those.”

_How long am I on meds?_ She had told him an eternity ago that he was on something to help with the pain. ‘Medication’ had been a familiar word, but it had taken him a bit to remember what it meant. A lot of words had been like that, lately.

“Another week yet, but we’ll be lowering doses.”

_What else?_

She sighed.

_That bad, then?_

“I’m afraid so.”

He stiffened. _Why are you afraid?_

“Sorry, that’s an expression. It means that I wish it weren’t that way, but it is.” She paused for a moment, and he processed. Then, she continued. “Your back was injured. Remember you told me that you couldn’t feel your legs?”

_I still can’t._

“Yes. The damage seems to be permanent. I’m very sorry, but Dr. Bardal and I don’t think you will be able to walk again.”

At some point in his ambiguous future, he would probably be upset about this. He supposed it would be cumbersome to lack the ability to walk. It had proved useful to him in the past. But at the moment, the looming prospect of simply getting out of bed sent his mind whirling in panic. The idea of having to move through space and see it change before his eyes, get closer to some things and further from others, and perceive dimension in real time, was too much.

He could be upset later.

_I understand,_ He wrote.

“Once you’re a bit better, we’ll get you a wheelchair so that you can start working on getting around.”

_What is a wheelchair?_

“A device that will allow you to move independently, even if you can’t walk.”

_But not yet._

“No, not yet. You need a bit more rest, first.”

He agreed. She stood up.

“I think I’ll let you start on that, now. I’ll be back in a while to give you a top-up on your meds.”

_How long?_

“About three hours.”

He wanted to know what three hours felt like.

_If you talk to Jack, can you thank him for my name, please?_

She smiled. “Of course. Now, get some sleep.”

But the world behind his closed eyelids was turbulent, fast, and terrifying. So he didn’t.

Instead, after Helen left, he admired the garish shade of pink on his door and how it clashed with those boring blue walls.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Third installment of this project. I swear Jack will actually be involved soon, I'm just very much enjoying developing Ianto's character rn. Enjoy!

  
To: Capt. Jack Harkness  
From: Helen Davidson  
Subject: Special Requests

Hello, Captain.  
Just wanted to let you know that there are a few non-standard items needed at the facility, and we were hoping you could send them with your supply shipment this month.  
-One teddybear, as little Adie’s lost hers  
-Electric blankets  
-Plant pots (I know we won’t be using them for quite a while, but Evan said he’d like to ‘beat the rush’ this coming gardening season)  
-Dark chocolate (Dr. Bardal believes that adding a small amount of it to regular meals could help increase serotonin levels in some of the patients)  
-One wheelchair, for Ianto  
-Earplugs (2 pair)  
Thank you, and I will see you in a few days.

P.S: Ianto also asked me to thank you for finding out his name for us. You should visit him when you’re here. I think he’d like to meet you properly.  
-Helen

\---

To: Helen Davidson  
From: Capt. Jack Harkness  
Subject: Re > Special Requests

Hi Helen,  
I’m sorry, but I’m not going to be able to come myself this week. Heading up to London tomorrow to investigate some activity at our London branch. I wouldn’t want Adie to be without her bear, though, so I’m going to send someone from shoreside with the boat.  
Tell Ianto he’s very welcome. I’ll try to come up when I can.  
Thanks,  
CJH  
–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Ianto never expected to still be where he’d been last when he woke up, but he was always greeted by a calm-colored sky peeking through his window, the soft bed below him, and his body’s quiet breaths. Today was no exception.

His throat felt raw and dry, and he swallowed experimentally. This made it ache more. Thirst was something he knew about and remembered, and it seemed odd that water was streaming from his eyes when he obviously still needed it in his body. He used his hand to wipe the drops from his face. Then, he slowly raised himself into a sitting position.

There was a small child staring at him from his doorway. Her hair was black and bouncy, alive with curls. Her skin was only slightly lighter than her hair. She wore a curious expression on her face, which was covered in lines and pock-marks that drew indistinct pictures across her cheeks. One of her eyes was a milky white, and the other was an unilluminated, infinitely deep brown.

“You’re loud.”

Unless he was misremembering the definition of ‘loud,’ that made no sense. He grabbed his pad.

“You woke me up last night.”

_I’m sorry._ He showed his response to her.

“‘S alright. Do you talk?”

He shook his head.

“Why?”

_I get words wrong._

“You’ve gotta practice to make ‘em better, though.”

He shrugged.

“Well, anyway. You woke me up last night being loud. An’ I remembered I used to do what you do.”

_What do I do?_

“Scream.”

He swallowed again. It still hurt.

“So I thought you might like to have him,” she said, and held out something to him. He reached for the thing, and discovered that it was soft to the touch. It was white, and had two black, plastic buttons spaced an eye-width apart, and a smile made of thread.

“He’ll help chase the nightmares away.”

He tucked her gift under his arm, then wrote. _Who is he?_

“I call him Barney.”

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. _Thank you. Will you want him back?_

“Don’t worry about it.”  
–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

He began to understand the concept of a day, and how time passed within it. He was given food three times over the course of one of them, and Helen came to check on him at least twice outside of mealtimes.

The child who had visited him, Adie, also stopped by regularly. She told him about the other people that lived in the place and ‘what was wrong with them,’ which seemed to be a very important topic for her. Everyone seemed to have something ‘not normal’ about them.

_What’s normal?_ he asked her one day.

“You know. Like, Helen is normal.”

_But why?_

“Just is.”

_Is normal better?_

She shrugged, then abruptly turned and left. For the first time since he’d arrived in this place, he contemplated getting out of bed to follow her.

But he jumped when the door swung shut, and so thought better of it.  
–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

After a few more days, he was forced to consider again.

“Well, here it is,” Helen said.

He stared at the metal contraption she had wheeled into the room and raised an eyebrow.

“I know, I know. It will take some getting used to. But Ianto, eventually you’re going to get restless sitting here all day long.”

He shook his head.

“Yes, you will. Look, at least try. I’ll help you.”

His grip on the bedclothes tightened, and he shook his head again.

“We could go visit Adie. I know you two are friends.”

His right hand shot towards his pad. _Her legs work. She’ll come around on her own. No need for drastic measures._

She tutted. “That’s enough cheek.”

_Please don’t make me._

“Listen, you don’t even have to leave your room. I just want you to try sitting in it.”

He let out a frustrated huff, then looked down at his lap. It wasn’t as if he wanted to be difficult. But he’d created a new equilibrium in his mind based around the principle of remaining in this exact spot. He could process things changing when, at their core, they were the same. Moving from the bed to the confounded wheelchair constituted shattering the fragile structure he had built.

Helen kneeled down beside him. “We’ll go nice and slow, no need to do too much, too soon.”

Eventually, he nodded.

He refused to watch as she maneuvered him off of the bed. For a moment there was the feeling of having nothing below him, and then his back was against a cushioned, smooth material. He reached out to find grips, seemingly made of the same thing, on either side of him. The material was somewhat firm, but pliant under his fingers, sort of like a thick skin. He imagined if he scratched it with his nails, it would create lasting marks. He opened his eyes to test the theory.

And the new world, set at the right side of his bed, was not as overwhelming as he had imagined it would be.  
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He stared at the entryway. Helen stood at his left, Adie at his right.

“Take Barney with you,” Adie suggested.

He nodded absently, trying to quell his apprehension. Barney was placed in his lap, and he smiled at Adie in thanks.

“Ianto, we can wait another day if you want,” Helen said.

He shook his head. Since he’d gotten the wheelchair, he had spent hours investigating what his room looked like from every place within it. He had mapped every inch of it in his mind, felt along the walls and collected the paint chips that came off under his fingertips, pressed his nose against the cold window and watched his breath fog up the glass. He’d gotten better at using the chair, and could now navigate without running into walls (mostly). There was nothing left to know about the room he hadn’t discovered. The only thing that still managed to truly startle him was the opening and closing of the door.

He had solidified his own little corner of the world, and it was comforting to have a space that didn’t shift unpredictably and endlessly before his eyes. But he was beginning to feel the restlessness that Helen had predicted.

“Alright, then. Whenever you’re ready.”

He gripped the cold, metal hand rims on his wheels and inched himself through the open door. His eyes flicked around, noting the dimness of the new space and the shadows manifesting in its corners. There were seven other doors, identical to his own, and each door had a small black square on it, hung up with string. The square directly across from his door read ‘Evan.’

He was scribbling out questions before he’d registered he was holding his pen.

_What are the squares on the doors?_

“They’re chalkboards. Each one has the name of the person who lives in the room written on it.”

_How many people live here?_

“Twelve, at the moment.”

_Is everyone in their rooms?_

“No, there’s probably a few people wandering around.”

_Am I allowed to wander around?_

“Yes, Ianto.”

_I want to wander around._

“Okay. I have to check on a few other residents, but you can call me if you need.”

He nodded, and Helen left him with Adie.

“Want to see the sitting room? It’s got games and stuff.” She started walking away without waiting for an answer.

He followed.  
–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

They’d hardly been in the room for ten minutes when Adie gave her farewell.

“I’m bored. See you later.”

He knew a silent man could hardly be the most interesting of people, but _really_.

He shrugged off a new emotion (which he would later learn was ‘offense’), and continued his study of the room. There were two other people, one sitting in a plush-looking chair and wrapped in blankets, the other staring down at a book and mouthing words to himself. Neither seemed to have taken note of his entry.

The room had a lot of furniture in it. There was enough room for him to move between chairs and tables, but just barely. There was a clear line from where he was situated to the bookshelf on the opposite wall, so he rolled towards it.

There weren’t very many books. He scanned the titles, trying to decide if any of them appealed, and discovered he was seriously considering all of them. He pulled _Jurassic Park_ , by Michael Crichton, and studied the graphic on the cover. It appeared to be a skeleton, but not like the one he’d seen in the x-rays Dr. Bardal had showed him of his own body. It had a lot of teeth. And a tail.

He tucked the book into the pouch that contained his pad, and turned his head. The man who’d been reading to himself had come up behind him. He had short blond hair and wore a bright smile.

“Hello. Do you like to read?”

He shrugged, because he didn’t know yet.

“Might I recommend this?” He held out the book and Ianto examined it. _Root Herbs: An Encyclopedia, Volume I_ , by Jane McDermott.

“It’s my favorite,” the man continued. “I’ve read it five times, at least. Ask me anything from in there, and I know it.”

Ianto was going to have to take his word for it, because the man didn’t seem interested in pausing long enough for him to write anything.

“Plants are amazing. Each one is so versatile and beautiful, and taking care of them is great fun. If it wasn’t so cold right now, I’d be out in my garden. I’ve been planning out what I want to plant once it gets warm again. Thinking basil would be nice. Do you know much about basil?”

Ianto didn’t.

“Oh, it’s lovely. I’m Evan, by the way. Are you new?” Ianto nodded. “Oh, well when it gets warm again I’d love to show you the garden. It’s a work of art, it really is.”

Evan proceeded to launch into an in-depth description of the properties of basil. Ianto let the words wash over him, taking in every detail since each one seemed to be equally important to the speaker. The way Evan spoke was slightly different than the way Adie or Helen did. There was a soothing, almost familiar lilt about his words that Ianto found he wanted to continue listening to.

By far the most comforting thing about the conversation was that Evan never seemed to expect him to answer. Ianto didn’t pick up his pad once.  
–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Evan followed him when he decided to go back to his room, wanting to finish his synopsis on the care of the Mustard plant. He seemed delighted to discover that their doors were right across from each other.

“So your name is Ianto?” he queried, reading the chalkboard on Ianto’s door. “I quite like it. You might just be more Welsh than me, with a name like that.”

Ianto had no idea what that meant, but the cheerful tone of Evan’s voice told him to take it as a compliment. He was just about to write out a goodnight when he noticed Evan had moved closer to him, and appeared to be looking around to see if anyone was watching. There was no one.

“Listen, it’s been lovely talking to you. You’re a wonderful listener.”

Hard not to be, considering.

“So I just wanted to thank you with this,” Evan continued, pulling a small, flat square of something from his pocket. He pressed it into Ianto’s hand. “It’s chocolate. I’ve never been a fan of the stuff, but you might like it.”

He scrawled a quick _‘thank you’_ as Evan exclaimed, “Oh! Remind me to tell you about the cocoa plant tomorrow. It’s absolutely fascinating.” Ianto showed him his note. “Oh, it’s no problem, lad. I won’t miss it.”

They parted ways. Ianto took out the square and stared at it, entirely clueless as to what to do with it. He resolved to keep it in the drawer beside his bed until he could ask someone what chocolate was for.  
–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

It took him five days to get through _Jurassic Park_ , with heavy assistance from the dictionary he’d found on the same little bookshelf in the sitting room. Everything about the book had enthralled him–the uniformity of the printed letters, they way words were organized into uniform lines that marched across his vision as he read, and the way it felt to drag his thumb across the edges of the pages. They made a satisfying sound as they glided past his fingertip, running into each other one after the other.

Although he had struggled with the multitude of things he didn’t understand, the story itself had captivated him as well. And all he could think about when he finally finished was the other books that were out there waiting for him.

A month passed, and he made his way methodically through _The Great Gatsby, Frankenstein, Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone,_ and _Treasure Island_. It became commonplace to find Ianto in one of the larger sitting room chairs, nose buried in a book as Evan sat beside him and drew up plans for the garden. He’d become quite fond of Evan, who always sported a grin on his face and brought Ianto squares of chocolate every morning. Even after he’d told Ianto everything there was to know about the cocoa plant, Ianto still didn’t eat the squares. Instead, they accumulated in their designated drawer, as well as in his trouser pockets and the pouch on his wheelchair.

Sometimes, Adie would crawl into his lap and read along with him. When he came across a word he didn’t know, Adie would either tell him what it meant or flick through the dictionary with single-minded determination.

In the third week of March, Helen deemed it warm enough for them to venture outside. Evan was ecstatic.

“Nothing will be blooming now, of course,” he said as he wheeled Ianto outside. “But you’ll get to see the _potential of the land_ , Ianto, and that’s nearly as good. It’ll be lovely.”

It was a lot of very wet dirt.

Ianto watched as Evan practically danced across the grounds, looking into pots and boxes and exclaiming his delight.

“This will be an excellent place for the beans, Ianto!”

“I can plant twice as much basil as I imagined.”

“Maybe there’ll be some extra top soil in the shed; this lot needs changing.”

The wind played with Ianto’s hair as he rolled himself down the path, listening to Evan’s chatter. The grass bent with the gusts, as did the scant leaves that were coming in on the trees. The scent of salt clung to the air, courtesy of the Bristol Channel (that’s what Helen had told him the water was called). He caught sight of several odd shapes on the horizon and went toward them.

Jagged rocks created striking natural sculptures at the end of the path. He found himself admiring the way they bent the light that hit them, creating shadowy patterns on the ground. Ianto reached a point where he could look out over the water, and stopped. The rocks cascaded downward in front of him in a sharp drop, and the waves beat against them mercilessly. Just as he’d begun to settle into his study of the area, he realized Evan’s voice had faded to nothing. Which meant Ianto had probably wandered a bit far. He made to turn around.

And saw something move among the rocks.


	4. Chapter 4

He picked up on the second ring.

“Hey, Helen. Sorry I haven’t been up to–”

_“Something is attacking the facility.”_

“Wait, _what?_ ”

_“It’s this giant, flying reptile or something. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”_

“Where is it? Are any of the residents in danger?”

_“Outside, near the cliffs. Ianto Jones was still outside when I first saw the thing.”_

Jack swore. “Okay, just keep everyone else safe. I’m coming.”

_“Hurry.”_  
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Jack’s eyes were watery and irritated by the time he docked at Flat Holm an hour later. He’d spent the entire boat ride looking to the skies, trying to get a glimpse of what he was facing, but something (or someone) must have been keeping its interest on the ground. All he’d been able to see were the endless blues and scattered clouds of an unusually pretty March day.

With his Webley in one hand and his field kit slung over his back, he leapt off of the boat and onto the dock. According to his last call from Helen, the thing still seemed to be near the cliffs. She hadn’t seen the creature for quite a while, but Jack had told her not to venture out until he could be sure it was gone. He made his way across the grounds, scanning the area. Broken tree branches were scattered in some places, and a couple of bushes had been uprooted. It looked as if whatever it was had crashed rather than flown, and the path of descent was fairly easy to follow.

The outcrop loomed ahead, and Jack tried to keep his footsteps as silent as possible. When he was within ten feet of one of the larger rocks, he saw a leathery wing open for a moment before disappearing again. A soft cooing noise came after, and Jack thought it seemed akin to the sound of some giant bird. He pressed himself up against the rock wall and cocked his gun.

Then, he nearly dropped it in shock when the full situation came into view.

The thing was a pterodactyl. At least, he was fairly certain it was. The sheer size of the creature, monumental wingspan and all, could only be accounted for if this was a creature from ancient Earth or not from Earth at all. Although Jack had thought it’s call was birdlike, in looks it more closely resembled a bat. It’s wings stretched to connect to skeletal arms and stocky feet. It’s sharp, metallic-looking claws caught the sunlight menacingly as it dragged them across the grass. But the pterodactyl wasn’t the most interesting part.

It was the man who stood in front of it, gently stroking the crest of bone protruding from it’s head and holding out a piece of chocolate.

Ianto Jones’s face was completely calm, bordering on content, as the prehistoric beast snatched the treat from his hand and let out another noise. He caught Jack’s eye and gave him a tentative nod, before reaching down into a small pack at the side of his wheelchair and pulling out another square. Jack approached cautiously, not sure how the pterodactyl would react to a new presence. It paid him absolutely no mind as he snuck by, and came to kneel down beside the other man.

“Hey, there. Captain Jack Harkness.”

Jones’s lips quirked slightly and he gave Jack another nod.

“This is one hell of a choice for a pet.”

A shrug.

“Would you mind if I took her away to somewhere safe?”

The man paused to grab a pen, and scribbled a sentence onto the pad of paper in his lap.

_Please, do. I’m running out of chocolate._

Jack laughed quietly, then reached into his bag and brought out a very large syringe full of tranquilizer.  
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Jack met Helen in her office a little while later. “How is he?”

“Fine. A bit shaken up, but not nearly as much as I would have expected. Where’s the… thing?”

“I’m taking it to a place where it won’t be able to hurt anyone. It’s tied up to the boat right now, shot full of enough tranqs to down a couple hippos.”

“Alright.” She stood up from her desk. “Thank you for getting down here so quickly, Captain.”

“Thank you for keeping everything under control until I got here,” Jack replied. “Could I pay a quick visit to Jones before I leave? I’d like to meet him properly, when we’re not both preoccupied by imminent danger.”

“Of course. I have to go find Megan again, but I can lead you to his room before I go.”

“Great.”

They exited the room and walked down the hallway. Jack kept his eyes forward, avoiding the glaring dilapidation surrounding him. He really had tried to make this place less desolate, and it was in a much better state than when he had originally founded it back in 2000. But there was only so much he could do without attracting attention.

So the concrete walls still crumbled. The paint stayed chipped. And he continued to feel the uncomfortable tug of guilt.

“There’s a couple things that you should know before you see him,” Helen began. “He’s startled by any kind of sudden movement, although he doesn’t really lash out. Sometimes he has flashbacks of whatever happened to him while he was missing. We haven’t managed to get him to tell us about that yet, and we’re still still not sure of all of his triggers.”

“Okay.”

“He asks a _lot_ of questions. A bit like a child might. He doesn’t seem to remember anything about his past… or really about being a person in general. But he’s been reading quite a bit and that’s filled in some gaps. Just don’t assume anything and you should be alright. Here we are.”

They stopped at the very end of the south corridor, and Helen knocked on the door on the right.

“Ianto! Someone to see you, love.” Two faint knocks sounded from inside the room, and Helen nodded towards Jack. “You can go in.”

“Thank you.”

She left, and Jack opened the door. He found Jones giving him the same intense stare that Jack remembered from the first time they’d met. Clear and calculating, but not cold. The man was propped up in bed, pillows stacked behind him to keep the metal bars of the bedframe off of his back and head. Books were scattered across the bedclothes and stacked on the bedside table. Pieces of paper stuck out of many of them, covered in the scrawl he’d seen when Ianto had answered him earlier today.

“Hello again, Ianto,” Jack greeted, stepping slowly closer. He was unsure of just how easily startled Jones would be.

Jones gave a nod, then wrote: _Hello, Jack._ He gestured towards the chair in the corner of the room.

“Thanks,” Jack said, pulling the chair towards the bed. He noted Jones’s slight shudder at the sound it made as it dragged across the concrete. “How are you doing?”

_I’ve had worse days. Meeting a dinosaur was worth missing dinner, at least._

His mouth insisted on a smile at that. “Sounds so exciting when you put it like that.”

_I have a gift for dramatic flare._

“So you say it was a dinosaur?”

_A pteranodon, yes. She seemed to have similar features to the ones I read about._

“Good eye.”

A nod of thanks.

“Have you read all of these?” Jack asked, indicating the array of books.

_Most of them. The ones on the table I haven’t gotten to yet. Do you like to read?_

“Don’t have the time normally. But I enjoy it, yes.”

_Why don’t you have the time?_

“My job keeps me pretty busy.”

_What do you do?_

“Now _that_ is a long story.”

_Are there a lot of dinosaurs in it?_

Jack laughed. “Nope, this has been a completely new experience.” He was starting to see what Helen had been saying about the questions. To his surprise, it didn’t annoy him at all. Something about the way Ianto looked fascinated by every word Jack spoke, as if everything was still new and exciting to his ears, endeared the man to him more than he would have expected. “I’ll definitely be including it in my memoirs.”

_What are memoirs?_

“Oh, a memoir is a story someone tells from their own experience. In this case, I’m using it to mean that today is a day I will remember.”

_Okay. Where are you taking her?_

“I’ve got somewhere nice and big where she can fly around.”

_Would you like to take some chocolate with you for her? I won’t need it._

“That’s very kind of you, but I’ll manage. Where did you get it all, anyway?”

_My friend, Evan._

“Our resident gardener?”

Ianto nodded.

“He’s a good guy.”

_He’s taught me a lot about basil._

That rang another laugh out of Jack. “Ianto Jones, you are something else.”

_Something else?_

“Special.”

The small, sincere smile that lit Ianto’s face was infectious.  
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For the first time in over six years of tending to Flat Holm, Jack left the facility feeling hopeful.


	5. Chapter 5

Ianto stared at Adie intently. She stared back, unblinking, from the foot of his bed.

“Am I still moving?” she asked.

He nodded. The infinitesimal ripples around her form were still present, as they were around everything and everyone that he laid eyes upon. He had gotten used to a world overlaid with this type of motion, adapted so that his vision was no longer an overwhelming swirl of distorted images. But fluctuations still danced in and out of being, drew his eyes with their frantic patterns.

However, since the pteranodon, there had been a new development.

“Hm,” she shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe you should ask him when he comes back.”

_I don’t know when he’ll come back._

“Just have to wait then, don’t you?”

Jack Harkness had been completely, irrevocably _stagnant_ when Ianto looked at him. No blurred outlines or indistinctness. Only solidity and permanence. Every detail of his presence seemed etched into fact, and Ianto had been utterly fascinated.

He huffed. _You know, you could be a bit more helpful._

Her eyes narrowed. “Let you stare at me. That was helpful.”

_Yes, it was. Thank you._

“Are you reading tonight?”

_After dinner. I’ll meet you on the sofa._

“Okay.”

She left, and he pondered.  
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To Ianto’s surprise, it was only four days later that the stubbornly unchanging man returned again.

“Hi, Ianto.”

He nodded in greeting, studying Jack’s windswept hair, flushed cheeks and curious gaze. His smile was a bit unsure, but it still drew laugh lines across his face. Ianto traced them with his eyes, still enthralled by the clarity of Jack’s image.

Jack approached the bed, carrying a small, cloth bag. “So I was just in the neighborhood–”

Ianto held up a hand to stop him, then grabbed his pen.

_You mean you were coincidentally in the middle of the Bristol Channel?_

The other’s grin grew more certain. “Alright, you got me.”

_So to what do I owe the pleasure?_

“Wanted to give you an update on the pteranodon. She’s settling very well into her new home, although my co-workers got quite a shock from seeing her for the first time.”

_You brought her to work?_

“Yep.”

_So I take it your workmates are fairly open-minded, then._

“We spend a lot of time blurring the lines between what is and isn’t possible.”

Ianto was really going to have to get Jack to tell this ‘long story’ about his place of employment.

_What’s in the bag?_

“Those would be the other things I wanted to give you.” Jack opened the drawstring and pulled out a few novels. “I thought you might be interested in these.”

He placed them in Ianto’s hand and he ran his fingers over them, reading their titles. _Ender’s Game, To Kill a Mockingbird,_ and... _Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets._ Jack must have noticed the first of the series in his pile of books a week ago. He spread them across his bed, then picked up his pen again.

_Thank you. These are wonderful._

“It’s no trouble. I’ve been meaning to expand the library here a bit, anyway.”

More coincidences, Ianto thought amusedly. _All the same. It was good of you._  
  
“Glad you like them,” Jack said. “If you want more, after you’ve finished, I’d be happy to get them for you.”  
  
He circled his earlier _‘thank you’_ and showed it to Jack, who nodded. Then, Jack stepped back and gestured toward the door.

“I actually have to get back.”

_You’ll come again?_

“Yeah, I will.”

_I’ll see you around, then._

“Bye, Ianto.”

It was only after the door closed behind him that Ianto realized he was left with more questions about the man than answers.  
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_1\. What really is your job?_

_2\. Why does the presence of an extinct animal not surprise you?_

_3\. Why are you so… still?_

_4\. Why do you feel the need to tell so many little lies?_

_5\. What is your interest in this place?_

_6\. And in_ me?  
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Before he left the island, Jack stopped by Helen’s office.

“Hey, I’m just about to head out.”

Helen stood from her desk. “So were your suspicions confirmed?”

He sighed. “I don’t want to assume too much, too soon.”

“But…?”

“Yeah. I still think he might be the one patient here who could actually get better.”  
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The next week, Jack found Ianto in the sitting room and taught him how to play checkers.

“Why don’t you talk?” he asked, staring at the board and trying to figure out how Ianto was decimating him so thoroughly after only three games. He clacked his piece onto a new square and kinged himself.

He looked up when Ianto tapped on the table. _I get words wrong._

“What do you mean?”

_When I try to say something, it doesn’t come out how it should. Adie says I should practice, but I don’t want to._

“I think she’s right, you know,” Jack said. Ianto took another one of his pieces.

_Everyone is entitled to their own opinion._

“Why don’t you want to?”

Ianto shrugged.

“Is it something you don’t know how to say, or that you don’t want to say?”

Another shrug.

Jack decided not to push, and instead tried to think of a way to salvage the game. There was another table tap.

_How’s work?_

The expression on the other man’s face was incredibly innocent.

“Same as always,” he evaded.

_Don’t really have much of a reference for what ‘always’ is like._

“For good reason. You know what they say about curiosity and cats.”

_I don’t, actually._

Jack was just about to tell him, until he caught the expression on the other man’s face. Underneath the ill-faked nonchalance, there was a wealth of eagerness shining in Ianto’s eyes. He truly did resemble a child, one that found the entire world fresh and new and intriguing. With a pang, Jack realized just how small that world might be, trapped in this place.

“Tell you what,” he said. “If you win the next game, I’ll tell you about what happened at work today.”

Ianto nodded, grinning.

In fifteen minutes Ianto had wiped the floor with him, and Jack told him a story about a glove that could bring people back to life.

(TBC)


End file.
